


Five Times Sheamus and Cesaro Went to a Bar, And One Time They Trashed It

by billybones



Category: World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: 5+1 Things, M/M, a distinct lack of condoms, i kind of gave cesaro depression a little bit?, not entirely sure...how that happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-09
Updated: 2018-07-09
Packaged: 2019-06-07 14:46:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 11,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15221489
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/billybones/pseuds/billybones
Summary: Xavier was talking, but Cesaro wasn’t listening. Instead he watched the lighted floor numbers blink by and thought about Sheamus. He thought about Sheamus’ stupid mohawk and his annoying jokes. He thought about his terrible driving and the godawful way he sang in the shower in the mornings. He thought about the way Sheamus sometimes called him ‘sar and the way his eyes crinkled up when he giggled into his pint at the terrible Irish pubs Sheamus insisted on going to after every single show.





	1. The First Bar

It just sort of happened. One minute they were being thrown out of Gorilla for arguing too loudly and the next they were pulling up in front of a building with _Irish Snug_ written on the sign. Cesaro was so focused on arguing with Sheamus that he barely even remember getting in the car.

“And you have so many bags for all your clothes! How many tearaway suits can one man own?” Sheamus was saying as he turned off the car.

“Where are we?”

Sheamus frowned at him. “The Irish Snug.”

Cesaro rolled his eyes. “I can read. I meant _why_ are we _here?_ ”

Sheamus grinned at him. “To celebrate, of course!”

“What-” Cesaro started to say, but Sheamus was already climbing out of the car. For a moment, Cesaro contemplated the idea of not following him, but Sheamus had taken the keys, and sitting in the car like a sulking child didn’t seem very dignified.

It was warm and loud in the bar. Music was playing from speakers on the walls and there was a handful of people playing pool in a corner. Nothing about it seemed particularly Irish. It was late enough that the evening rush was almost gone. Sheamus was sitting at the counter already.

“What are we celebrating?” asked Cesaro. There didn’t seem to be much in his life right now that was worthy of celebration.

“Our first victory!”

The bartender finished with the other man sitting at the counter and turned his attention to them. “What’ll you have, gentlemen?”

“Two Guinnesses,” said Sheamus.

“You better be planning to drink both of those yourself,” said Cesaro, finally deciding that apparently this was happening, and sitting on the stool next to Sheamus.

“It’s an _Irish bar_ , Cesaro!”

“I didn’t even choose to come here!” Cesaro snapped, voice rising.

Sheamus gave him a wounded look and opened his mouth to argue.

The bartender coughed politely, causing Cesaro to start guiltily. _Professional_.

“I’ll have a vodka martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

Sheamus grumbled something about _James Bond Motherfuckers_ under his breath. Cesaro rolled his eyes again.

The bartender placed both of their drinks on the counter and moved off.

Sheamus grinned, good mood apparently restored by the Guinness, and took a quick sip before guiltily remembering his manners and lifting his glass towards Cesaro. Cesaro stared at him. A little over 24 hours ago they had been pulled apart by security and stopped from finishing their match. About 24 hours ago Cesaro had heard a knock on his locker room door and opened it to find an uncertain, yet defiant, Sheamus standing in his doorway.

And now they were here. Tag partners.

There was a foam mustache coating Sheamus’ real mustache, for a moment he felt an insane impulse to reach over and-

“What, you’re too good to toast with me?”

Cesaro mentally shook himself. _Professional_. It was one thing to feel this attraction to Sheamus when they were enemies. It was another thing to give into those feelings when the Best of Seven series was over (although even that had been a mistake), but they were tag partners now, and that made things messy.

Sheamus was looking wounded again. Mick Foley had asked them to trust him. Foley had said they had the potential to be magic. Cesaro forced his eyes back to the safer waters of his martini. He picked it up and looked at Sheamus.

“ _Sláinte!_ ”

“ _Prost_.”


	2. Hell in a Cell

“YOU LOST US THE MATCH!” shouted Cesaro.

“I WAS TRYING TO HELP!” Sheamus roared back.

“Well that worked out just _great_ , huh? You should be _very_ proud of your work there. Those titles could’ve been _ours!_ Woods _tapped!”_

“The New Day _cheated!_ Maybe if you cared less about what your precious _Cesaro Section_ thinks and were willing to play a little dirtier we would have those titles with us right now!”

“That’s not _winning_!” They had had this argument a million times already.

“Yes, it is! ASK THE NEW DAY! If Kofi hadn’t kicked me in my bleedin’ _head-”_

“ _You_ kicked me too, if you’ll remember!”

“That was an accident! I apologized!”

“NO YOU DIDN’T!”

“ _GENTLEMEN!”_ shouted the bartender.

Cesaro and Sheamus turned to look at him, both breathing heavily.

“Please, take this argument outside. You’re disturbing the customers!”

Cesaro glanced around. Everyone in the bar was staring at them. Sheamus had a way of _doing_ this to him. No one, _ever_ , in his whole life, had made him lose control the way Sheamus did. Cesaro prided himself on being a professional. People described him as unflappable. He was calm, cool, and collected. Suave. Debonair. Hitman-esq. And yet here he was, having a shouting match in a bar, and without even the excuse of being drunk. They had been in the bar all of _two minutes_ before being asked to leave.

The twisting embarrassment in his stomach just fed the anger burning through his veins. They had lost. They had had _one_ title opportunity that their grueling Best of Seven series had brought them and they had lost it. Not even the title opportunity he had _wanted_ . And to lose it because of the New Day’s _disqualification_ was unbearable. They would get a rematch, he’d see to that, but it didn’t matter, because the truth was, Sheamus was right. The New Day were willing to cheat, and he wasn’t. And he didn’t even get the satisfaction of being mad at them about it, they were his friends and that’s just how they were.

He needed to do something with this restless, bitter, unsatisfied feeling. He wanted to go for a run, or get in a fight, or...

“Maybe we should leave.”

Sheamus glanced at him and nodded.

 ***

The air outside was bitingly cold and it felt good against his skin. Cesaro didn’t look at Sheamus, he just turned down the street and walked towards the alley behind the bar he remembered them passing on their way from the arena.

He shouldn’t be doing what he was planning on doing but _fuck it_ . What was the fucking _point_ of being professional, of being good at your _fucking_ job when every opportunity was ripped out of your hands. 28th pick in the fucking draft. That’s what he was to the company he’d broken his body for. The company that Tyson had nearly died for. What was the point of any of it. For months now he’d lived with the feeling that there was a black hole in his chest and the only thing keeping it from swallowing him whole was his _fury_ and the certainty that he deserved better than this.

The only relief from that feeling had come from the man walking quietly behind him. Hearing the crowd come alive for them at Clash of Champions had reminded him why he loved being a wrestler. And what had happened in his locker room after the show...as complicated and messy as it was, it had felt satisfying and _complete_ in a way that nothing else did right now. He’d re-lived those moments over and over during the past few weeks, and now, with this horrible dissatisfaction burning through him, he wanted to feel that again. He wanted to feel Sheamus’ beard against his skin. To bite and claw and feel Sheamus’ solid weight against him, holding him down. He wanted something to feel good.

He turned down the alley. Sheamus followed him without comment. Once they were a little distance from the mouth of the alleyway, Cesaro turned on his heel and Sheamus almost ran into him.

“What the-” Sheamus moved to step away, but Cesaro reached out and grabbed the lapel of Sheamus’ vest.

“Wait, Sheamus…” Sheamus stilled, looking confused.

Cesaro stepped closer, close enough that he could feel the puff of Sheamus’ breath against his face, and the warmth of his body.

Sheamus was utterly still beneath his hand. He looked from the hand on his chest to Cesaro’s mouth. This was a bad idea.

“I thought you were mad,” said Sheamus, the words came out quiet and intimate murmured into the space between them.

“I am.”

“I thought you didn’t like- ” Sheamus cut himself off. Something in Cesaro’s chest contracted, but whatever it was couldn’t dispel the restless horrible feeling eating him alive. He wanted Sheamus to stop talking.

The trick to being cruel wasn’t to be brutally honest about all the worst things _you_ believed, instead it was the knack of looking someone in the eyes and telling them something _they_ believed with a straight face. Cesaro did just that, without thinking about it.

“I don’t. Nobody likes you, Sheamus.”

Saying it didn’t make him feel better, if anything it made it worse. Sheamus’ eyes snapped up from where they had been staring at Cesaro’s mouth. He stepped forward and shoved Cesaro. Hard. Cesaro fell back a step. He smiled. _That works too._

“Really? You’d rather do this?” He shoved Sheamus back. “I’ll never understand the Irish.”

Sheamus got right up in Cesaro’s face. This was very familiar, standing chest to chest, faces mere inches apart, that _something_ that existed between them crackling and white hot.

“Well?” Cesaro asked, tauntingly.

Sheamus swore quietly under his breath and grabbed Cesaro by the back of the neck and dragged him into a kiss. It was harsh and mean. Cesaro pushed into it, curling his arms around Sheamus’ back, wanting _more more more_. Cesaro bit his lip, and Sheamus laughed softly into his mouth and pulled him even closer and-

“What the _fuck!?_ ”

They jumped apart.

There, at the mouth of the alley, stood the fucking _New Day._

Cesaro looked at Sheamus. His mouth was red, and there was no mistaking the way Sheamus dragged his wrist across his mouth, even if the New Day hadn’t been sure what they’d seen, they would now.

Caught making out with his _tag team partner_ in the fucking _alley_ behind a _bar_. Unbelievable.


	3. Glasgow

Ever since the night of Hell in a Cell, the New Day had collectively taken an interest in Cesaro and Sheamus’ relationship. Cesaro had tried to explain to them that  _ yes _ he  _ had _ been kissing Sheamus but  _ no _ that  _ didn’t _ mean they were dating, in the hopes that that would be enough to get them to leave him alone. In fairness, that  _ did _ seem to be enough for Kofi. He would just smile that laughing smile of his and make subtle jokes that made Sheamus flush all the way up to his mohawk. That was mostly bearable, but Cesaro was pretty sure Big E and Xavier had started some kind of bet.

He didn’t know what the bet entailed but they had started... _ doing things _ . He hadn’t known it was them at first. When champagne and roses got delivered to this his and Sheamus’ hotel room he assumed it was a mistake, no matter what the conseiger told him. But it happened over and over. And then he started to get calls from romantic restaurants reminding him of reservations he never made. When they arrived at the next town there had been some mix up with the reservations and they had a room with only one bed, and the hotel was booked up. He’d been so suspicious of that he’d gone down the next day and spoken to the new front desk clerk. She had been very surprised to learn he’d been told the hotel was booked solid. She called up the person who had been working there the night before and they’d admitted to being bribed with booty-os and WWE merch.

He didn’t confront them for a while, hoping that if he ignored it long enough they’d get bored and the problem would just go away, but after Cesaro and Sheamus spent nearly half an hour trapped in a mysteriously “broken” elevator Cesaro had to admit that this situation wasn’t going to resolve itself on its own. So when Xavier invited them out to dinner after Raw in Glasgow, Cesaro accepted before Sheamus could say anything rude. Maybe if the New Day saw them together, they’d realize that he and Sheamus as a couple was a bad idea and leave them alone.

***

Kofi was pretty fucking amused. If you’d told him a month ago that he’d be sitting in a gay bar in Glasgow with Sheamus and Cesaro he would’ve- well, he probably would’ve gotten you a drink and asked you to tell him all about it.

“Two Guinnesses,” Sheamus was telling the bartender.

“ _ One _ Guinness,” said Cesaro, frowning at Sheamus. “And a martini. Shaken, not stirred.”

The woman took that down, as well as the New Day’s order, and took off. Kofi was pretty sure he heard Sheamus mutter something about “thinks he’s 007.” Cesaro rolled his eyes.

There was a slightly uncomfortable silence. Cesaro and Sheamus seemed to be more out of temper with each other than usual, and Kofi could easily imagine why.  _ Nobody likes you _ was still echoing in his ears an hour after raw. At least with Survivor Series coming up, Sheamus and Cesaro wouldn’t be feeling quite as competitive with the New Day as usual.

“So,” started Kofi, plastering on his Interested Dad Face, “you guys been to Glasgow before?”

“Yes,” said Sheamus and Cesaro at the same time.

“It’s nice.” Kofi chewed on the inside of his cheek to keep from smirking at their adorable “jinx” moment.

“It’s better than nice!” said Woods, appearing beside him. “And you should see the gaming community they have here.”

Sheamus made an unimpressed noise. “You should see Dublin.”

The bartender slid them their drinks and hurried away before Cesaro and Sheamus could use her in an argument again.

They clinked their glasses together, headed to their booth and got to drinking.

***

The drinking definitely helped.

“There’s no  _ way _ Mickie is losing to Asuka!” argued Woods. “No  _ way! _ ”

“Have you  _ seen _ Asuka?” asked Sheamus, a little louder than necessary.

“Have you  _ seen _ Mickie?” demanded E. “She’s a multiple time WWF women’s champion! And she hasn’t lost a step!”

“No one can beat Asuka,” said Cesaro. “And if anyone comes close I think she’ll find a way of dealing with that too.”

“What’d’y mean?”

“You know what I mean.” Cesaro frowned at his empty glass. Cheating was still a sore subject with him. “I’m gonna go get another.”

Kofi watched Woods and E watching Sheamus stare after Cesaro and smiled into his pint. Their bet was bringing so much joy into Kofi’s life. He didn’t really believe in meddling in other people’s lives, but watching Woods and E try to sitcom Sheamus and Cesaro into falling in love was pretty amusing.

“So, Sheamus,” Kofi said, “Are you swinging by Ireland while we’re here?”

“Yeah. ‘course,” said Sheamus glancing at him. “I always try-”

“Kofi, I need to get a refill too,” said Woods, suddenly.

“What?” He was pushing at Kofi, trying to get him to slide out of the booth. “You’ve still got a good third left what’re you talking about?” Kofi laughed.

Woods glared at him and pushed harder. Across the table, Sheamus suddenly went very still, eyes locked on the bar again. Kofi gave in and scooted out of the booth, following Sheamus’ gaze.

_ Ah. _

There was a man talking to Cesaro at the counter.

Correction: there was a man  _ hitting on Cesaro _ at the counter.

An attractive man with warm brown eyes and a bright smile. And Cesaro was smiling back at him.  _ Good for him _ . Kofi glanced at Woods and E and tried not to grin at the twin looks of horror on their faces.

“Need anything Sheamus while I’m getting Woods’ refill?”

“What?” Sheamus tore his eyes away and blinked at Kofi. “Oh. No, I’m- it’s- No.”

Kofi tried to ignore the way his heart sunk a little in sympathy and walked over to the bar.

Cesaro glanced at him when he approached.

“Hey Kofi. This is Mark,” he said, indicating the man next to him.

Kofi shook Mark’s hand and tried to flag down the bartender.

“Are you a wrestler too?” Mark asked. It was nice of Mark to make an effort to include him in their conversation, Kofi would’ve appreciated it more if he couldn’t feel three pairs of eyes digging into his spine, and hadn’t just seen the look on Sheamus’ face.

“Yeah.”

“That’s so cool! I haven’t kept up with WWE in years, but I go to local shows when I have time.”

The bartender appeared before Kofi could respond. He ordered Woods’ unnecessary refill, and another for himself as well because he was a hop skip and a jump away from caring about Sheamus’ romantic life and if that was his fate he was going to need another drink

The bartender moved off to get him his refills and Kofi turned back to the two men next to him.

Mark had moved closer to Cesaro, and was smiling at him with such earnest interest that Kofi almost felt bad for wanting to spill a drink on him. He had apparently just finished saying something funny because Cesaro was laughing with his head thrown back.

“I won’t tell Sheamus you said that, he doesn’t need a bigger ego,” said Cesaro, gaze drifting back to their booth. His lingering smile faded. Kofi’s heart beat a little faster.

“Hey, it was great to meet you, Mark. I’ve got to get back to my booth. My friends are waiting.”

Mark looked disappointed but he bore it gracefully. “No worries! It was nice meeting you. You have my number if you ever find yourself in Glasgow again.”

Kofi grabbed his refills and waved at Mark, following Cesaro back to the booth.

Woods and E looked incredibly relieved to see them. Sheamus was pretending to be focused on playing with the condensation on his Guinness. Kofi sighed, fuck it, he was invested.

***

When it was time to leave they piled into a cab, E and Sheamus singing loudly, and Kofi gave the driver the name of their hotel. Cesaro was glad that someone in their party was still capable of being an adult.

Sheamus had ended up in the middle seat for some reason, even though as the smallest members of their party it really should have been Woods or Kofi. Sheamus seemed to be taking up even more space than usual, singing boisterously, an arm thrown around Cesaro’s shoulders, their thighs pressed together.

Streetlights flashed by outside, giving the inside of the cab a cozy golden glow. E was using the back of the passenger’s seat as a drum and Kofi was laughing.

Cesaro suddenly realized he was smiling. He was  _ happy _ . He hadn’t realize how long it had been since he’d felt this happy to be alive. That thought had the potential to be kind of frightening if he looked at it head on, so Cesaro pushed it away and focused on the ache in his cheeks and the lightness of his heart.

***

By the time they pulled up in front of the hotel, Big E had fallen asleep. Sheamus poked E’s arm trying to wake him up, while Kofi paid the driver. Before Cesaro could offer to help, Xavier was pulling him out of the taxi and suddenly they were in the brightly lit lobby. 

“Thanks for inviting us out,” said Cesaro. He was a little surprised by how much he meant it.

“Thanks for coming along.” Xavier reached passed him to press the elevator button. “Kofi was worried you and Sheamus would fight too much, but I knew it’d be okay. You’ve seemed pretty angry and like miserable?” his voice tilted upward in a question, “the last couple months, and the only times I’ve seen you actually enjoying anything was with Sheamus.”

“Um.” Cesaro didn’t know what he was supposed to say to that.

The elevator beside them dinged and opened. Xavier smiled innocently, like he hadn’t just tilted Cesaro’s world on its axis and walked in. After a second’s hesitation, Cesaro followed him.

***

Kofi and Sheamus finally managed to get E out of the taxi and were now carrying him between them. Kofi was 50% sure E was pretending to be asleep so Xavier could attempt to plant romantic ideas in Cesaro’s head in private, but he wasn’t about to expose the ruse. Kofi had some things he wanted to say too.

“Could we put him on this bench for a second?”

They eased E onto the bench and Kofi pulled Sheamus a little ways away incase E really wasn’t sleeping.

“Look,” said Kofi, before he could think better of it. “What Cesaro said to you today on Raw...that fucking sucked. It wasn’t okay.” Sheamus looked away. “Not to make excuses for him, but I really don’t think he realizes that it gets to you.” Kofi struggled for the next words, “sometimes when people are in pain, it’s easier for them to miss the pain in the people around them. And like, you can ask them to work on it, but you can’t expect it to get better on its own. You should talk to him. If he knew he was hurting you, I think he’d stop. ”

Sheamus didn’t say anything.

***

Xavier was talking, but Cesaro wasn’t listening. Instead he watched the lighted floor numbers blink by and thought about Sheamus. He thought about Sheamus’ stupid mohawk and his annoying jokes. He thought about his terrible driving and the godawful way he sang in the shower in the mornings. He thought about the way Sheamus sometimes called him ‘sar and the way his eyes crinkled up when he giggled into his pint at the terrible Irish pubs Sheamus insisted on going to after  _ every single show _ . Xavier didn’t know what he was talking about. Cesaro didn’t  _ enjoy _ being around Sheamus. Xavier had no idea how truly, frustratingly  _ annoying _ Sheamus could be when you spent every second of every day with him.

_ But if that’s true...why did it feel like Xavier was right? _

_ Did  _ he like spending time with Sheamus? They certainly spent a lot of time together these days. What with sharing rental cars, hotel rooms, getting seats on planes together, going to pubs after shows, even working out together… But that was just because...well, because they were tag partners...wasn’t it? Although...they didn’t have t-

The elevator doors opened. “This is me,” Xavier said, hitting Cesaro’s shoulder with his fist. “Think about what I said, okay? And if you ever want to talk about it, I’m here for you.”

Was he still talking about Sheamus? Oh well too late to ask now.

“Right. Goodnight, Woods.”

Xavier waved goodbye and left Cesaro alone with his thoughts. He leaned against the wall of the elevator and chewed his lip.

Just the other day he’d been on the phone with Natalya and she had broken off in the middle of their discussion about whether Cesaro should get a cat (Cesaro said no, Natalya said  _ get two _ ) to say: “Why do you keep talking to me about Sheamus? I don’t care about Sheamus.”

“What?”

“You keep bringing him up. You talk about him all the time now.”

“I do?”

“You’re always telling me about things he said or did or what you two did together. I could start a fucking sideblog about Sheamus with only the information I get from you and the pictures from your twitter.”

Cesaro hadn’t even noticed.  _ He hadn’t even  _ **_noticed_ ** **.**

The elevator dinged and the doors opened. Cesaro stepped out into the hall.

Cesaro slipped the key into the slot on his second try and walked into his room. He shut the door and leaned back against it and closed his eyes. Okay, so he was  _ choosing _ to spend time with Sheamus outside of work. A lot of time. And presumably that was because he...maybe...enjoyed it. When he skimmed back over the last few weeks the moments that stood out from the grey miserable sludge that had become his life included Sheamus more often than not. That locker room after Clash of Champions, holding some random egg local talent in a delayed suplex with one arm while Sheamus tried his best not to look impressed on the apron, teasing him with Facebook Live, the way arguing with him felt so  _ fun _ and bright and alive, Sheamus’ warm capable hands pressing athletic tape against his skin and the soft way Cesaro sometimes caught Sheamus looking at him in the mirror...

Why was his heart beating so fast? Cesaro pressed his palm against his chest. He felt a curl of anxiety unspooling in his stomach.  _ Christ, get a hold of yourself. _

That guy at the bar, Mark, had been cute and interested and Cesaro had blown him off. 

Cesaro heard the tell tale snick of a key in the lock and felt the door shove against him. He moved out of the way, whirling around to face Sheamus.

Sheamus blinked at him. Cesaro stared back.  _ Oh god.  _ It was so much more than just enjoying Sheamus’ company.

“Why’re the lights off?” Sheamus asked quietly, stepping into the room. The door swung closed behind him.

The lights were, in fact, off, the only illumination coming from the little electric lights on the TV and the digital clock, and the light streaming in under the door. But Cesaro could see Sheamus well enough. He had partly unbuttoned his shirt and Cesaro could see the edge of his collarbone. His mohawk was curving gently to the side.  _ Red rooster _ , Cesaro thought, and smiled. Sheamus smiled back at him and reached for the lights. Cesaro caught his hand.

“Wait.”

“What?”

So. Maybe he liked Sheamus. As insane as that idea was...maybe it was true. Sheamus was a good wrestler. And he was attractive. And, as much as Cesaro might wish it were different, Cesaro found him funny and charming, even when he was being an asshole. Sometimes especially when he was being an asshole.

He needed to think about that. But not right now. Not in this warm, shadowy moment that seemed to stretch on and on. Not when Sheamus was looking at him with such a soft expression in his eyes.

Cesaro leaned in. Sheamus pulled back and turned the lights on.


	4. Survivor Series

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Sheamus and Cesaro have very different experiences at Survivor Series. And also where the explicit rating comes into play.

“I think you should be nicer to Sheamus,” said Bayley.

“What?” They were sitting in catering. They had arrived late and now were almost the only ones there. Bayley and Sami had finished their meals, and Cesaro was almost done.

“You’re kind of mean to him,” continued Bayley. Cesaro watched as Sami reached across the table and picked up a couple of Cesaro’s fries. Sami munched them, looking thoughtful.

“Neither of you even like Sheamus,” said Cesaro. He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. All he wanted was to eat his lunch in peace and not think about Sheamus, or his feelings for Sheamus, or Sheamus’ apparent lack of feelings for him.

“That’s not true...”

Sami reached back across the table and grabbed some more fries. Cesaro watched, gripping his knees to stop himself from knocking Sami’s hand away.

“I think you hurt his feelings.” _That_ turned his attention back to Bayley.

“ _What?_ ”

“Haven’t you seen the way he looks at you when you say that kind of stuff to him?”

“No,” Cesaro said, annoyed. He reached out and caught Sami’s hand just as Sami was about to scoop up the last of his fries. Sami rolled his eyes and made a dramatic little _fine!_ gesture with his hand before retracting it, like it was _Cesaro_ who was being unreasonable.

“Just- think about it, okay?” asked Bayley. She checked her phone and stood up from the table. “I gotta go get changed. See you!”

Cesaro waved her off and quickly ate the last of his fries before Sami went back on the attack.

“She might have a point,” said Sami, looking at him seriously.

“No one is nice enough for Bayley.”

“As frustrating as Sheamus is, he’s still your partner. You’re supposed to work together.”

Cesaro frowned. Part of him wanted to cooly raise an eyebrow and ask Sami what _exactly_ he could _possibly_ know about _healthy_ tag team dynamics, but another, bigger part of him knew that that wasn’t kind or fair.

“I don’t want to talk about Sheamus.”

Sami shrugged, clearly not as invested in Sheamus’ feelings as Bayley had been. Or perhaps the subject brought his mind uncomfortably close to memories he’d rather not examine. Either way, Sami rose to his feet and brushed the salt from Cesaro’s fries off on his pants.

As he and Sami walked back to the locker room, talking idly about which brand had the stronger women’s team going into Survivor Series, Cesaro’s mind was pulled again and again to what Bayley had said. He wasn’t mean to Sheamus. He _liked_ Sheamus for fucks sake. Although he’d only realized that two weeks ago...

“I think people underestimate how much of a powerhouse Nikki really is-” Sami trailed off, frowning at him. “Are you listening to me?”

“Yeah. Nikki’s a powerhouse,” Cesaro repeated. _Am I mean to Sheamus?_ “But no one on Smackdown can come close to Nia’s power.” He was uncomfortably reminded of standing in the center of the ring and saying the words “nobody likes you” while an arena full of people laughed. Sheamus hadn’t even looked at him. Why had he done that?

“But Nikki has more experience! She was the longest reigning Diva’s Champion, remember?”

“Yeah. And she cheated. Which is an edge she no longer has. I think it was a mistake leaving Nattie off the team.”

Okay, so maybe he’d been an asshole. _And maybe that’s why Sheamus-_ Cesaro cut that thought off before it could become something embarrassing. He remembered the look on Sheamus’ face in that bar in Glasgow. The idea that he could be hurting Sheamus’ feelings...He could be nicer. He _would_ be nicer.

***

Sheamus was putting the finishing touches on his mohawk when someone behind him said, “hey _nerd_.”

It was Gallows and Anderson.

“What do you want?” Sheamus decided his Mohawk was as high as he could possibly make it and turned to frown at Ganderson.

“We wanted to talk before we go out there to face Smackdown,” said Gallows.

“We wanted to make sure you’ll be bringing your best today,” said Anderson.

“What the fuck are you talking about.”

“You’ve lost a step recently.”

“Lost your killer instinct,” said Gallows leaning against the wall beside the mirror.

“We want to know if we’ll be teaming with _Sheamus_ ,” Anderson’s smile was more like bared teeth, “or with Cesaro’s neutered lapdog.”

“ _What?”_ Sheamus snarled, getting up in Anderson’s space. Gallows intercepted him with a large arm held between them.

Anderson smirked over Gallows’ arm. “We’ve seen the way you let him walk all over you. It’s pathetic. Just because he sucks your dick-”

“WHAT?!” the word came out as a shout. He couldn’t help it, a flash of panic had speared him. _How could they-_

“Oh please we have eyes,” said Anderson dismissively.

“Also, ears,” said Gallows, looking amused. “And locker room doors aren’t exactly known for their soundproofing.”

“Then you’re imagining things,” said Sheamus, voice barely controlled.

“We’ll see.” Gallows and Anderson flashed him identical smirks as they walked away.

_Fuck fuck FUCK._

Sheamus hurried to get dressed for the match, mind whirling. He didn’t need this bullshit right now. Things with Cesaro had been weird enough ever since that night with the New Day. Cesaro had taken to staring at him pensively, and he’d been kind of jumpy in a way Sheamus didn’t understand. When they’d got back to the states after the European tour was over, he’d told Cesaro he’d grab their rental car while Cesaro got the luggage and Cesaro had been like, “You just assume we’re going to travel together?”

“I- Do you not want to?” Sheamus had asked, taken aback.

“No. No, I do. But why did you assume it?”

“Because...it’s what we’ve always done? Since becoming a tag team?”

Cesaro hadn’t answered, but he hadn’t looked happy.

Sheamus still didn’t know what the fuck that was about. He hadn’t gotten up the courage to actually follow Kofi’s advice yet. He knew he should, but he was a coward. And there never seemed to be a right time, when they were fighting he didn’t want to bring it up, and when things were going well, he didn’t want to ruin it with an awkward conversation.

Sheamus pushed those thoughts away. Right now he needed to focus on Survivor Series. Gallows and Anderson couldn’t think that anything was going on between him and Cesaro. He’d make sure of it.

***

 _And_ **_that_ ** thought Cesaro, walking through the curtain into gorilla, _is precisely why Bayley and Sami don’t know what the hell they’re talking about_.

Cesaro had tried so hard to be a good tag partner. He had saved Sheamus from the Usos. He had taken that boot so that Sheamus could keep fighting. They’d _won_. And after the match Sheamus had offered his hand. Standing there after their first major victory, body aching, surrounded by the crowd chanting “no” and “yes” he’d looked across at Sheamus and trusted him. And Sheamus had tried to use the moment to embarrass him.

He’d _known_ that Bayley’s fear that Cesaro was hurting Sheamus’ feelings was absurd and tonight had proven it. You had to care about someone to be hurt by them. And Sheamus didn’t care about him. At that thought his stomach swooped miserably and his chest ached and he wished that he could just get in a car and _leave_ . He wished he’d never offered Sheamus his hand and that he’d _won_ that Best of Seven series and that his heart wasn’t such an _idiot_.

Cesaro took a deep breath and let it out slowly. _Pull yourself together_. So he liked a boy who didn’t like him back. It was hardly the end of the world.

He couldn’t believe he’d been so oblivious that he hadn’t noticed these feelings for Sheamus. Now that he knew they were there they were all he could see, they filled his world, coloring everything. How had the world not felt empty before? Maybe it had.

Cesaro stayed like that for a moment. Breathing in and out and willing his heart to beat slower, willing the embarrassed, miserable clench of his stomach to relax. He thought briefly about actually just leaving, just catching a ride with Bayley and Sasha, or getting a cab and taking it to the hotel. But he and Sheamus were sharing a room. He could get another room...but then there would be questions and it would only be a temporary, cowardly fix. He sighed. He would have to face Sheamus eventually. Better to get it over with.

***

Sheamus couldn’t remember the last time he felt so good. They had won a major match! _He_ had won a major match! And Cesaro- Cesaro had pushed him out of the way and let the Usos kick him to save Sheamus and ensure their victory. Liquid joy was running through his veins, he felt drunk on it.

And the fun police definitely couldn’t think he and Cesaro were fucking after he pulled that shit with the handshake in the ring. Everything was coming together and Sheamus was beaming at the production staff he passed in the hallways. He wondered where Cesaro had gone off to.

He showered and changed quickly, keeping one eye out for Cesaro, but didn’t see him, so he grabbed his bag and headed for their rental car.

Cesaro was leaning against it, sunglass-covered eyes directed at his phone. He’d clearly showered and changed, Sheamus wondered how he’d missed him in the locker room, but that wasn’t important now. Seeing Cesaro he felt the walking-on-air joy sweep him up again and he grinned, jogging up to him.

“Tony!” Cesaro glanced up from his phone but didn’t smile. Sheamus felt a little stutter of anxiety in his gut but pushed it away. He swept him up in a hug, squeezing him tight. “SURVIVOR SERIES WINNERS!” he crowed. Cesaro was a little stiff in his arms so Sheamus let him go and gave him a playful shove. Cesaro let the shove move him back a step but otherwise didn’t react. His face was unreadable behind his sunglasses. Sheamus wished he’d take them off.

“You’re not hurt, right? Do we need to stop by the doctors before we leave?” Cesaro had seemed fine by the end of the match, but sometimes the adrenaline made it so that you couldn’t tell something was wrong until later.

“Just tired.” Cesaro’s voice sounded a little odd, “I don’t want to go out to a bar tonight.”

“Oh.” Sheamus could feel himself sobering up and tried to talk the worry down. Cesaro had _sacrificed himself to save him_. He cared. He cared about Sheamus and he cared about their tag team. Maybe he really was just tired. “Are you sure? We’ve never had more to celebrate!”

Cesaro glanced away, across the garage and chewed his lip for a moment before responding. “The hotel has a bar. Let’s just get something there.”

“Okay,” said Sheamus, happy to compromise.

***

The joy that had been dimmed slightly by Cesaro’s lackluster enthusiasm was completely restored by the first Guinness.

“I WON SURVIVOR SERIES!” Sheamus shouted boisterously when a new bartender came on duty and asked them what they were celebrating.

“ _We_ won Survivor Series,” Cesaro corrected him, the sternness of his voice was belied by the way the corner of his mouth was twisting up in a reluctant half smile.

Cesaro had finally taken off his sunglasses and his second martini seemed to be loosening up the tense line of his shoulders.

“Yeah yeah,” Sheamus said, dismissively, just to watch Cesaro struggle not to laugh. He wasn’t disappointed, although there seemed to be something a little harsher and more mocking than just amusement in his laugh tonight.

“You’re unbelievable, you know that?”

“Unbelievably talented, you mean? Unbelievably handsome?” Sheamus reached out and put his hand on Cesaro’s arm, leaning meaningfully into his space. He knew he was flirting, but he couldn’t seem to stop himself. He looked down at his hand on Cesaro’s clothed bicep and thought: _There was something I needed to tell him, what was it?_ Something about Survivor Series and Ganderson, but he couldn’t remember what.

Cesaro’s eyebrows climbed up his forehead. He’d given up trying not to smile, but it still wasn’t fully the smile Sheamus wanted to see.

“You’re awfully friendly all of a sudden.”

“All that work, all those matches, and finally, _FINALLY_ it’s paying off!”

“I suppose,” Cesaro gently extracted his bicep from Sheamus’ grasp and took a sip of his martini.

“Cesaro.” Sheamus looked at Cesaro seriously. Or he tried to. Cesaro looked amused again, so maybe he wasn’t conveying seriousness as well as he thought.

“Tony.”

“Yeah, Sheamy?”

“We’re going to win those tag titles. I promise. We’re going to be champions. I know it. Together.”

Cesaro sucked in a shaky breath and didn’t seem to know what to say. Sheamus gripped his arm again and used it to shake him gently.

“I promise.”

Cesaro laughed a little breathlessly, and Sheamus was suddenly aware of how close they were. They smiled at each other and neither moved away.

And Sheamus made a decision. Cesaro was giving him these fond, melted-ice looks and the Guinness was combining pleasantly with the joy still buzzing through his veins. He felt warm and in love with the world and _fuck it._ All Sheamus wanted to do was kiss this man. And if Cesaro was willing, he was going to do it.

Kofi likely wouldn’t approve, since they hadn’t talked but the night just felt so perfect and Sheamus was so happy and wanted Cesaro so much. It had been months since he’d jerked Cesaro off rough and raw, whispering filth into his ear on the floor of an arena locker room. He wanted to make Cesaro moan like that again. He wanted him to feel even half the joy Sheamus was feeling right now.

“Let’s go back to the room,” he said, letting the heat and intent show on his face and color his words.

Cesaro was chewing his lip again, his eyes went from Sheamus’ mouth to his hands and back to his eyes, indecisive.

Sheamus let go of him and leaned across the bar to give the bartender their room number and then headed for the elevator, Cesaro could follow him if he wanted to. He did.

***

This was a bad idea. Sheamus’ enthusiasm and easy affection had soothed some of the embarrassment of the handshake fake-out, but that didn’t change the fact that Cesaro’s feelings were unreciprocated and this was a _bad idea_.

The elevator doors closed behind them and Sheamus moved closer to him. He was watching Cesaro’s face with a sort of relaxed focus that made Cesaro’s stomach flutter with a pleasant anticipation.

Sheamus took another step forward. Cesaro didn’t move, caught between the desire to lean in and pull away.

When Sheamus closed the distance between them, Cesaro expected to be kissed, perhaps something like the rough meeting of mouths they experienced in the alleyway, but instead Sheamus simply smiled and brushed the tip of his nose softly across Cesaro’s cheekbone. Cesaro felt his resolve crumble.

Maybe Sheamus didn’t like him. Maybe Sheamus would never want to do this again. Maybe tomorrow they’d decide to go their separate ways as a tag team and Cesaro’s heart would be broken and he would be released from his WWE contract and the world would end. But at least he would have had this.

“Sheamy,” he said, quieter than he meant to.

Sheamus _hmm_ -ed attentively.

Cesaro tilted his head and leaned forward, pressing his mouth against Sheamus’. Sheamus made a pleased sound and kissed him back. It stayed gentle and chaste for a few long delicious moments and then Cesaro licked along the seam of Sheamus’ mouth and they were off to the races.

***

By the time the elevator dinged open at their floor Cesaro had crowded Sheamus against the elevator’s wall, and was pressing open-mouthed kisses against his neck and the underside of his jaw, while Sheamus clutched at him, leaning his head back to give Cesaro better access.

Somehow they managed to untangle long enough to find their room and make it through the door.

“How do you wanna do this?” Sheamus was flushed and panting but his eyes looked a little uncertain. It reminded Cesaro of clash of champions, he’d looked so defiant and unsure standing in the doorway to Cesaro’s locker room, like he was expecting to be laughed at for checking on the well-being of his opponent. Thinking about it now, Cesaro couldn’t help but smile. It felt like years had passed since then. Everything was different now. Everything felt new and important.

“C’mere,” said Cesaro, reaching out and pulling Sheamus to him. Sheamus stumbled forward, letting the gentle but irresistible pull bring him flush against Cesaro again. “Kiss me.” Sheamus did. It was sweet and soft, like the kiss in the elevator had been. Cesaro felt a little swoop of nerves at the idea that Sheamus might recognize these kisses for the lovesick keepsakes they were, but he pushed that worry away. He wanted this, why lie about, if this was his one shot and Sheamus was willing to indulge him.

Cesaro pulled back a little and smiled. “You taste like Guinness.” Sheamus laughed.

“Sorry.”

“Oh I wasn’t complaining.” Cesaro smirked and pulled Sheamus in for another kiss, this one more familiar and less gentle. Sheamus slid his knee up between Cesaro’s legs and he pressed against it, moaning into Sheamus’ mouth.

“Fuck, ‘sar. I want-” Sheamus let out a frustrated sigh, “ _everything_. I want you in my mouth. Can I-”

“Yes, yes please-”

Sheamus sank down to his knees, rucking Cesaro’s shirt up so he could press smiling kisses to the soft, vulnerable skin by his hip bone while he opened his pants.

He mouthed at Cesaro’s dick through the cotton of his boxers and Cesaro’s head banged back against the door as his hips stuttered forward. Sheamus grinned up at him and pulled the pants and underwear down as one, Cesaro’s dick coming free. Sheamus moaned a little, getting one hand around it so he can give Cesaro a few firm strokes, his other hand slipping down between his own legs. He rocked his hips against his own hand as he leaned in and took Cesaro’s cock in his mouth.

The hot, wet cling of Sheamus’ mouth around him was almost too much. Cesaro closed his eyes and bit down on his palm to try to keep from moaning, but Sheamus just made a frustrated sound and pulled off, saying “Please, ‘sar- I wanna hear you. I want you to look at me.”

Cesaro swallowed thickly, and moved the hand he’s been biting into Sheamus’ hair, carding through it. Sheamus got his mouth on him again and hmmed around Cesaro’s dick and it was all Cesaro could do to keep his eyes from closing again. Sheamus looked absolutely sinful, mouth stretched wide around his cock, eyes focused up at his face. Sheamus hollowed his cheeks and twirled his tongue and _fuck_ Cesaro was pretty sure they needed to stop soon if they wanted to do anything else tonight. And he did, he did.

Cesaro pulled on Sheamus’ hair, and he came off of his cock with a soft _pop_ sound, Cesaro bent down and kissed him. The kiss was wet and sloppy and Cesaro could taste his own precome on Sheamus’ tongue. Sheamus moaned again when Cesaro tightened the fist in his hair and pulled up, Sheamus following it to his feet.

“I want you to fuck me,” Cesaro said. “If you want, I mean. If that’s something you’d-”

“Yeah,” Sheamus said, sounding just as wrecked as he looked. “Yeah, I’d- fuck, ‘sar.” He leaned forward and then they were kissing again, Sheamus crushing him back against the door, his hips rutting forward so that his dick kept sliding against the bare skin of Cesaro’s hip.

“Yeah, baby,” Sheamus said against his mouth. “Gonna make you feel so good. Fuck I’ve wanted to for ages. Wanted to get inside you at _Clash_ , but there wasn’t any lube. Wanted to fuck you on the floor of that locker room. Would you’ve let me?”

“Yeah,” panted Cesaro, because why lie? “Yeah, fuck, Sheamus. Bed. Now.”

Sheamus laughed a little and got his hands under Cesaro’s ass, and scooping him up, Cesaro’s legs automatically wrapping around Sheamus’ waist. They both groaned at the new angle, as Sheamus’ dick rubbed against the crack of his ass.

“Fuck you’re so strong,” Cesaro said, and immediately regretted it. Whatever happened tomorrow, there’s no way Sheamus would ever let him live that down.

Sheamus grinned at him, so fucking pleased and smug, and pressed a quick kiss to his throat. “You like it when I pick you up.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yeah,” Cesaro said. “Not uh, not many can.”

Sheamus made a rumbly sound at that and carried Cesaro over to the bed. He dumped him down onto it and then stood there looking at him for a moment.

Cesaro refused to let it make him uncomfortable. “Take off your shirt, we look ridiculous. Shirt with no pants?”

Sheamus laughed again and they both quickly divested themselves of their remaining clothing. Sheamus rummaged through his bag and pulled out a small bottle of lube and a pack of condoms.

“Could we-,” Cesaro swallowed, maybe it was gross and stupid and awful but it was what he wanted and this was it, this was the only day. “Could we not use a condom? We’re tested all the time, we know we’re good, and it just feels-” He cut himself off. He wanted Sheamus inside him, he wanted to feel it.

“Yeah, fuck,” Sheamus said, dropping the condom pack immediately and crawling up the bed. “Whatever you want.” He kissed Cesaro again, biting at his lower lip. “Fuck I can’t believe you’ll let me-” his fingers brushed down between Cesaro’s legs, giving his cock a few tugs, thumb sweeping over the head, then drifting lower, cupping his balls, sliding back further, until he was rubbing a dry finger against Cesaro’s hole.

Cesaro moaned wetly. “Wait.”

Sheamus stilled immediately and then started to pull away.

“No wait,” Cesaro gripped his wrist, keeping him close. “Just- if you do it I think I’ll come. Can I-”

“Of course,” Sheamus pressed the lube into Cesaro’s hand and kissed him again. He pressed a kiss his throat, and then leaned even more into his space to suck on his earlobe.

Cesaro huffed out a breath that was more fond than annoyed and pushed him off a little so he could maneuver into a position where he could finger himself. Sheamus leaned back and watched him with dark hungry eyes.

Cesaro was quick and efficient about getting himself stretched, his determination not to rush this getting severely tested by the way Sheamus watched him and lazily stroked his own cock. When he had worked up to three fingers, Cesaro pulled them out and tossed the lube back at Sheamus.

“How do you want it?” Sheamus asked, pouring lube into his hand and then wrapping it around his cock.

“Wanna ride you.”

“Fuck,” Sheamus closed his eyes for a moment, hips canting up into his fist. “Yeah, yeah okay.”

When they got themselves situated, Sheamus on his back, Cesaro hovering over him, Cesaro sank down, going at his own pace, moaning quietly at the pleasant stretch. His eyes were closed, focused completely on his own pleasure, but he cracked open an eye to see Sheamus. Sheamus was lying back, watching Cesaro’s face with what Cesaro could only describe as something like awe. Sheamus caught him peeking and swallowed thickly.

“That feel good, ‘sar?”

“Yeah,” Cesaro breathed, finally sinking down fully. “Feels so good.”

Sheamus gave him a dopey smile and Cesaro had to lean down carefully to kiss it.

They stayed like that for a while, kissing deeply and then Cesaro started to move, slow at first just rocking a little in a way that made Sheamus catch his breath, then speeding up, faster and deeper. Sheamus sat up, catching Cesaro’s mouth in a kiss and curling his arms around his back. It took a little doing but they managed to move themselves so that Sheamus’ back was pressed against the headboard, Cesaro still in his lap. Cesaro pressed Sheamus into the headboard, one hand threaded with Sheamus’, the other wound up in Sheamus’s hair. He wanted to devour him.

Sheamus thrust up and Cesaro pushed down and it was so good. It was so good and Cesaro never wanted it to end. He wanted to live forever in this moment, full of victory and Sheamus, but he could feel the pleasure building in his body.

Cesaro pressed his face into the crook of Sheamus’ shoulder and came with a muffled curse. Sheamus fucked him through it, whispering filth and praise into his ear, and then stilled, pressing panting kisses against his ear and neck and shoulder, wherever he could reach.

Cesaro’s limbs felt loose and jello-y. He pulled back enough that he could see Sheamus’ face in the near dark of the hotel room.

“What do you want?” whispered Sheamus, pressing his lips against Cesaro’s cheek.

Cesaro wanted to rub his come into Sheamus’ skin. He wanted to feel this for days. He wanted to do this all again tomorrow, and the day after, and the day after that. He didn’t want this to end.

“Fuck me till you come,” he whispered back. He felt a little sore and overstimulated, but in a good way. “But my thighs are getting tired so if we could-”

“Yeah, ‘course.”

Cesaro lifted off Sheamus’ cock and flopped onto his stomach with a contented sigh. Sheamus leaned over him, he spread Cesaro’s ass cheeks and just paused for a moment, looking at him. Cesaro could feel his eyes on him and pressed his face into the sheet, embarrassed and turned on. Sheamus seemed to notice and gently petted his thigh, before carefully pressing back inside with a groan.

“Feel so good,” Sheamus murmured.

“You don’t- ah _fuck-”_ Cesaro said, as Sheamus dragged along his prostate. “You don’t have to g- go slow.”

“That what you want?” Sheamus asked, pulling almost all the way out and drilling back in hard and fast. Cesaro made a truly embarrassing sound and Sheamus chuckled, leaning down to press a soft kiss against the back of Cesaro’s neck before snapped his hips forward again hard enough to push Cesaro up the bed.

He set a punishing pace, draping himself along Cesaro’s back, and it was perfect, everything Cesaro wanted. Sheamus over him and in him, pressing him in the bed with his weight, sparking off pleasure just this side of pain every time he moved.

Sheamus bit down on his shoulder as he came.

***

They were silent for a while afterwards, laying together and panting in the warm dark of the hotel room. Finally Sheamus turned his head to look at him. Cesaro was covering his face with his hands. Without thinking about it, Sheamus reached out and ran his fingers along his side.

Cesaro sighed, and reached across himself with the hand not covering his face and gripped Sheamus’ hand, squeezing it and not letting go. Sheamus looked at their clasped hands.

“It’s interesting,” started Sheamus. He didn’t know how to do this. He didn’t know how to ask for this. This could be whatever Cesaro wanted, but he just had to know... And here, in the dark, with their breathing settling back to a normal pace and Cesaro holding his hand, maybe he could be a little brave. “It’s interesting that you want to do this with someone you don’t even _like_.”

Cesaro made a sound that wasn't quite a laugh. Or if it was a laugh it was the most miserable laugh Sheamus had ever heard.

There was a beat of silence. The air conditioner whirred quietly.

“I like you,” Cesaro said, voice slightly muffled by his hand, “as much as anyone does.”


	5. The Next Day

“I had sex with Sheamus.”

As soon as Cesaro had changed into his tights, he’d snuck out of the locker room, past catering, and made it to the staff parking lot, where he was now hiding in his car. He pressed his phone closer to his ear waiting for Nattie to respond.

“You fucking _what?_ ”

“I had sex with Sheamus. Again.”

“ _Again??”_ Cesaro winced a little. “Are you fucking kidding me?” He opened his mouth to respond but Nattie cut him off, “No shut up. One sec, let me get situated.” He heard some rustling on the other end of the phone and then, Nattie’s voice slightly muffled, “Carmella, I’m going to take this call in my car.”

He could just barely make out Carmella’s dismissive “Whatever.”

Nattie didn’t say a word on the walk from her hotel room to her car. Cesaro got comfortable in the passenger’s seat, and listened to her breathing. He didn’t think he’d ever felt the distance between them more keenly. He missed traveling with her so much. If his low draft number was his least favorite thing about the brand split, being separated from Nattie was number 2.

He heard a car door slam and then, “Okaaay. Alright. Give that to me again.”

Cesaro took a deep breath. “I had sex with Sheamus.”

“For the second time.”

“Yes.”

“When the _fuck_ did you have sex with Sheamus the first time?”

“Clash of Champions.”

“Clash of-“ Nattie’s outrage was apparently so strong she couldn’t even get the words out. Cesaro smiled and took a sip of his coffee. Nattie knowing made it all seem more real and somehow less daunting. “Before or after your match?”

“After. I’m not a complete idiot.”

“Uh huh.” Nattie sounded unconvinced on that point. “And you had sex again last night?”

“Mhmm.”

“Is this why you’ve been so weird about Sheamus lately?”

“I just. I really like him, Nattie.” It felt so _true_ and _right_ when he finally said it outloud. He let the words come, hardly knowing what he was going to say next, but feeling the truth in every word. “I didn’t recognize it. Nattie, I’ve been. Fuck. I’ve been so miserable.” He didn’t know how to put that misery into words. With Tyson being forced to retire, and then Cesaro getting injured himself and missing mania, and the draft, and the constant disappointment of opportunities missed...It had been like he was floating in the ocean, just barely keeping his head above water, as wave after wave tried to pull him under.

Time was a strange thing. He could remember that pain, the distinct ache in his chest, the way everything felt endless and hopeless, but he couldn’t _feel it_ anymore. It was almost like it had happened to someone else. That hopelessness didn’t feel like it belonged to him now.

“Teaming with him...I forgot wrestling could be _fun_. And the other stuff, last night…” Cesaro trailed off. He didn’t know how to put into words what last night had been like. Laying there in the dark afterwards, holding Sheamus’ hand in his, thinking _“I’m happy I lived long enough to experience this”_ even if it all went away tomorrow.

He was worried that put into words it would sound pathetically small, because how could he ever convey how bright and beautiful and impossible that moment had felt.

“If it weren’t for him...what would this past year even be? He gave it meaning and shape and purpose. I was drifting...and he anchored me.”

Nattie didn’t say anything for long time. Cesaro futzed with the lid of the coffee cup until he could bear the silence no longer.

“I know you don’t like him, and he’s kind of an asshole, but-“

“But you like that about him,” said Nattie. He could almost hear her nodding, putting the pieces together in her mind.

“I do. I shouldn’t, but- fuck.” Cesaro smiled at his coffee. “We spend all this time together and we argue about _everything_ but I’d still rather have him around than not.”

“So it’s not just that you slept with Sheamus. You- what? Love him? Want to date him?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. So fucking tell him that.”

“I don’t know if-“

“Cesaro, you like this guy. You want him in your life. You can’t have that until you actually talk about this. And you deserve to be happy, so just go talk to him.”

“I think I’ve been mean to him.”

“Oh you definitely have been. I watch Raw, at least, your parts of Raw. _I_ wouldn’t date you after you told me nobody liked me in front of a crowd of cackling Scotsmen.”

“Thanks.”

“But I also don’t look at you with those wounded puppy dog eyes, so maybe that means something.”

“Ha. Maybe.”

“Listen. You know what you want, that’s half the battle right there. Now you just have to _do something about it._ ”

“Okay. Okay, you’re right. I’ll...talk to him?”

“Yes, like the adult you theoretically are.” Cesaro smiled again. Nattie thought he could do this. She was right. He could do it.

“Okay. I’ll do it tonight.”

“Good,” she said, and then, a little more gently, “and...congratulations. Seriously. These past few years have been so awful. I’m so glad that things are getting a little easier.”

“Thanks, Nattie,” Cesaro tried to pack how much he meant that into the words. He would never forget saying goodbye to Nattie after the draft, when Nattie had looked at him so seriously and said, “You’re going to be happy again.” He hadn’t believed her at the time. “Love you.”

“Love you too.”

Cesaro hung up and then just sat in the car for a few minutes. He could do this. He just didn’t know how.

***

Cesaro decided to wait till after their match that night. The waiting was agony. He barely paid attention to the match itself (some meaningless three way tag), he was too completely focused on how the fuck he was going to start this conversation, what he was even going to say.

Sheamus seemed distracted too, not noticing when he got tagged in, and failing to counter some extremely telegraphed moves.

After the match they showered and dressed in silence, both caught up in their own thoughts, and then as they made their way to the car, Cesaro said, “Bar tonight?”

“Yeah. I’ll drive.”

“No, Sheamus. I’ll drive.” Cesaro smiled and then, just to start a fight: “You’re a terrible driver.”

“What?! I’m an excellent driver!”

They bickered amiably all the way to the bar, pausing only so that Sheamus could give him directions.

***

The bar was small and cozy looking from the outside, a little garden and bench out front being lit by the warm glow of the stain glass windows.

“Wait,” Cesaro caught Sheamus’s sleeve. Sheamus paused with his hand on the door knob. “Can we sit here for a second?” Cesaro gestured at the bench. “I wanted to talk about last night.”

“Oh,” Sheamus’ eyebrows climbed towards his Mohawk. “Okay. I- Me too.”

“You do?”

“Yeah,” Sheamus rubbed his hand over his mohawk and down the back of his neck, looking nervous. “I should’ve said this earlier, but. I don’t know. I didn’t know how to bring it up I guess.”

“Okay.” Cesaro wanted to fucking bolt. “Okay.”

They sat down on the bench, carefully not touching.

Sheamus took a deep breath, looking down at the ground.

“I thought I'd be okay with this being whatever you wanted, but it turns out I'm not? I don’t want just sex. And I don't think you want the same thing. So we should to stop, I guess.”

Cesaro stared at Sheamus, frozen and completely unable to speak.

“We can still be a tag team, but we can’t- I know last night was my idea, but- we can’t do that anymore. I can’t do that.”

He looked so miserable and anxious and, needing to soothe that, Cesaro remembered how to speak.

“Sheamus.”

Sheamus finally looked at him. He looked guarded, and Cesaro realized that he was expecting Cesaro to say something cruel to him.

“I’m sorry.” It was the most important thing, so he started there. “Sheamus, I’m so sorry.”

Sheamus blinked at him. “For what?”

“For everything,” Cesaro shook his head, staring down at the way Sheamus’s hands were clenched on his knees. In the wake of Sheamus’ revelation, Cesaro’s callousness seemed too cruel for words. Bayley had been right after all. He’d been hurting Sheamus. “I was mean to you.”

“Oh. It’s alright,” said Sheamus, voice sounding suspiciously gruff.

“No, it’s not. It doesn’t make it okay, but I honestly didn’t think...you cared what I thought? I didn’t think it bothered you. But I shouldn’t have said it anyway. And I should’ve noticed. And I’m so sorry, Sheamus.”

“Well, I haven’t exactly been completely guiltless on that account either. So.”

Cesaro reached out for Sheamus’ hand, Sheamus started in surprise but didn’t pull away. He looked down at their clasped hands.

“I don’t know how to say this in a way that doesn’t make me sound like a high schooler, but...I _do_ like you, Sheamus.” There. He’d said it.

“No, you don’t.”

“What?”

“You don’t like me,” Sheamus was trying to pull his hand away, Cesaro let him, too shocked to hold on. “You don’t have to say it just because...last night and,” he waved vaguely in the direction of his own chest. “Okay? It’s fine.”

“I’m not- no, it’s not- Sheamus.” Cesaro laughed a little, of all the horrible ways he’d expected this to go, somehow this had not been one of them. “Sheamus.”

“I’m gonna go,” Sheamus stood up and started walking.

Cesaro stared after him. “Sheamus!” He jumped up and followed after him, catching up to him quickly and standing in front of him so he had to stop.

“Fuck, Sheamus. I’m not lying this time! You’re one of my favorite people! I don’t want just sex, I want _you!_ However you’ll have me!” Cesaro realized that maybe this would sound more convincing if he wasn’t angrily shouting his declarations of affection in Sheamus’ face and lowered his voice. “I should’ve told you earlier. I should’ve told you last night! But I thought you didn’t- you’d just pulled that thing with the handshake and I thought-“

“Christ I never told you!” cried Sheamus, frozen body suddenly coming alive.

“What?” asked Cesaro, taken aback.

“Gallows and Anderson cornered me before our Survivor Series match and said they knew about- about after Clash of Champions.”

“ _What?”_

“So I was trying to throw them off! Make them think...you know, that we’re not…you know.”

They stared at each other in the muted lights coming through the bar window. Something was bursting in Cesaro’s chest that felt an awful lot like hope and he could see an answering glimmer in Sheamus’ eyes. There was a long beat, and then Sheamus smiled, so small and brave that it made Cesaro’s heart ache, and reached out to thread his fingers with Cesaro’s.

“So you like me, huh?”

“Yes, Sheamus.” His smile got a little wider.

“I’m your favorite person even, I hear.”

Cesaro groaned and buried his head in Sheamus’ shoulder. “Must we?”

“I think it’s only fair,” Sheamus said. Cesaro rubbed his face against Sheamus’ shirt and pictured the smug tilt of Sheamus’ smile and grinned till his face hurt.


	6. +1 Two Weeks Later

There was a gaping hole in the wall of the bar. Tables and chairs were broken and strewn across the floor. Shell shocked patrons were cowering around the edges of the room. Sheamus hopped over the bar and grinned.

“What’ll you have, partner?”

“How about a pint of Guinness?” said Cesaro. 

Sheamus flashed him a smile and set the pint in front of him, then reached over to grab his own.

“Partner?”

“ _ Slánte _ .”

They clinked their glasses and Sheamus took a swig. Cesaro stared at his drink. He hadn’t really thought this through. They’d just trashed the bar together and Sheamus had been smiling at him and Cesaro wanted that to keep happening and he’d just spoken without thinking and now he had a fucking Guinness in his hand. Fuck he hated Guinness.  _ Will he notice if I don’t drink it? _

Sheamus made a satisfied sound and set his own half empty pint on the counter. Foam was clinging to his mustache.

“You’ve got some foam,” said Cesaro.

“Yeah?” Sheamus was still grinning, wild and unleashed. He leaned across the counter and gripped Cesaro’s tie, tugging until they were mere inches apart. “You gonna do something about it?”

Cesaro felt his mouth form an answering grin and he closed the rest of the distance between them, pressing their mouths together.

***

Sirens.

Cesaro pulled back regretfully. “We should probably go before the cops get here.”

“Sure.” The kiss had melted Sheamus’ grin into something softer. He was looking at Cesaro, warm and unguarded, and it was the best thing Cesaro had ever seen. Sheamus climbed back over the counter and they slipped out of the bar. No one was foolish enough to try to stop them.

They walked briskly until they were far enough from the bar to not have to worry about the police and then they slowed to a more leisurely pace.

***

Back in their hotel room Sheamus stripped off his vest and grinned at Cesaro.

“And here I thought you didn’t like going to pubs.”

Cesaro smiled. “They’re growing on me.”

“The way Guinness is growing on you?” Sheamus gave him a knowing look, and took a small step forward.

“Something like that.”

Sheamus took another step, this time directly into Cesaro’s personal space. “Are you wearing one of your velcro suits?”

“No.”

“Shame.” And Sheamus kissed him.


End file.
